She focused on the throng of Rangers instead, studied their grit-covered faces and uniforms, sand from the now-passed storm caked in their sweat. For some, it caked in blood. Jack Korba limped ever so slightly as he followed Monica. What had all of these people been through during the night? Her eyes skittered along the group again, searching for Drew just to reassure herself he wasn't hurt and hiding it.
The mass parted on the opposing side. Sydney stepped through. Alive. Yasmine snuck a hand behind her back to steady herself against the cement wall while she searched her sister for signs of mistreatment.
Sydney walked slowly, but then she always did, their dreamer sister never rushing for fear she might miss something or someone. And yet this woman who already gave many of her days to others had been robbed of months of her life. Her normally short caramel hair now grazed her shoulders after so long without a cut, attesting to those lost months.
Monica and Sydney fell into a hug. There was no other way to describe it as both stumbled the last steps. Reaching. Laughing. Crying. Unrestrained emotions and so much love mixed with grief.
The solid block of cement behind Yasmine wasn't enough to steady her. She couldn't imagine what would be.
Rage and shame scoured her. If only she had loosened her hold on her pride enough to communicate with her family, she might have known her sister was in Rubistan, then held hostage. Perhaps she could have sought information. Helped. Brought an easier end to the situation so all these battle-weary faces might have seen less blood today.
So young Private Santuci might have lived.
Self-examination stunk. Yasmine slipped her other hand behind her back for a double dose of steadying against the bullet-pocked wall.
Monica and Sydney eased apart from their hug. Tears streaked tracks down their dusty faces and slid into wide smiles.
"Are you okay, kiddo? God, I've missed you." Monica hugged Sydney again, pulled back. "Look at your hair. It hasn't been this long since you were in the second grade. Are you okay?" she asked again in an un-Monica-like jumble of words.
Sydney's hand tucked into the clasp of the grubby oversize soldier beside her. "I am now. I just want to go home. Sleep. Eat a whole pizza. Sleep some more."
"Soon. Very soon. Just a few more hours. And, hon, that pizza's on me." Monica's smile held firm, but her hands shook as she hooked her sister's hair behind her ear, eyes searching, sister and doctor in tandem seeking reassurance. "I need to check the three of you over while the rest of the medical team treats and loads up the wounded. And these folks need to check airfield security. Then we're out of this place."
Monica looped an arm around Sydney's shoulders and began retracing her path through the crowd. Closer to where Yasmine stood.
Would Monica gather her up with relief, as well? Before she could discover the answer, Sydney gasped. Locked eyes with Yasmine. "Oh, my God! You're here, too?" She bolted up the stairs and hugged Yasmine with typical Sydney openness. "This is too wonderful. I don't even care how it all happened. It's just so awesome to see you both."
Monica paused at the foot of the cement steps. Climbed up, peering at Yasmine with a more caged expression. "Are you all right?"
Yasmine stiffened for recriminations.
Monica reached. Yasmine waited for a rebuff after the frosty way they'd parted last. Instead, Monica straightened the trailing end of Yasmine's scarf.
Affection? Or restraint?
"We need to head over to the medivac." Monica's hand fell away. "See you there later? I'll need to check you over, as well."
The old Yasmine would have only heard the subtie nudge that Monica wanted a few more moments alone with Sydney. Now, Yasmine stuffed aside her pride and reminded herself the invitation to join them would not have been issued at all in the past.
Yasmine nodded. "I will be right with you."
She stared out over Drew's world while her sisters ambled down the steps. Monica's words from earlier washed back over her, caking the grit into her skin with more guilt as thick as sweat. She'd taken their protection and given nothing in return.
So what that she had not known Sydney in particular was being held hostage? She had known Ammar snatched people, and thought only of her own escape. Of a freedom she had not earned any more than she had earned her sisters' affection.
Drew, Monica, they were all correct. Freedom did come with a price—the responsibility to safeguard it for others.
Monica and Sydney walked away, both shadowed by the men in their lives. Yasmine's gaze landed back on Drew. His head dipped as he listened to one of his soldiers beside him while talking on his ever-present radio. What was her freedom worth if she had no one to share it with?
Drew had told her he did not really know her. She had been so quick to question how that could be possible when she knew him so well.
The answer unfolded clearly. Because her defensiveness and pride had kept her from showing her true self. Trust had to be earned. And love had to be nurtured.
She would not give up. Now was not the time to push him, but thanks to Drew she had forever in a new country to make the effort. Once she had her American nursing license, she would find a job close to his Ft. Benning Army post. There was no reason at all why she could not work in Georgia, and she would still be close enough to see her sisters in South Carolina and Virginia.
And her ride out of Rubistan waited a short stretch away.
Yasmine started down the first step. Stumbled. A hand steadied her from behind with a firm grip to the arm pulling her upright. Albeit a bit brusquely until she landed back in the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder to thank her rough savior.